


Devourer Of Kings

by ScrumptiousCookie



Series: Expect The Unexpected [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Mentioned Astrals, Mentioned Gentiana, Mentioned Lunafreya, Mentioned Regis, Tumblr Prompt, dedicated to airlea-sicarius, ffxv-prompts, first prompt fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11916744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrumptiousCookie/pseuds/ScrumptiousCookie
Summary: A kingdom stands tall amidst its loyal people. so is it any wonder that the kingdom had fallen when betrayal rooted firmly in its core and strikes when it is at its most vulnerable? “all hail the slain king”Or,ffxv-prompts: prompt 1 ~ the king lay dead, slain by enemy hands. and the kingdom he protected, was in shatters.





	Devourer Of Kings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [airlea-sicarius](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=airlea-sicarius).



> this is something that i made after searching for a ffxv prompt in tumblr, and coming across one, i nabbed it after gaining the permission of @ffxv-prompts or @airlea-sicarlus. do take note that the plot might not be what you’d expect when you began reading.

final fantasy xv 

. 

He that fights and runs away,  
May turn and fight another day;  
But he that is in battle slain,  
Will never rise to fight again. 

-Tacitus- 

. 

________________________________________

Upon the darkening wisps that dance across the ominous night sky; of starshine and moonlight that hid and cower away from the slightest touch of the tainted creatures that roams the earth. 

A prophecy was made that’d return light onto the land of Eos once more, and thus ending the eternal night. Consequently… destroying the Starscourge itself, once and for all. 

In time of his subsequent imprisonment and the betrayal of the very people he had sworn to protect against all odds, Ardyn had heard of the prophecy. 

Delivered by the Glacian’s messenger herself, he was to consider it as a a way to purge himself of the Scourge that resides within him, a final parting gift by the Astrals themselves, a means to be set free of his burdens. 

His blood boils at the sheer audacity of the Gods. More so when it comes to his knowledge that the act would be taken by his own descendant, his very own kin. 

Irony at its best. Condemned by the Astrals that he’d live and serve for a lifetime worth of sacrifice; perpetually betrayed and rescued by what he considered to be his blood; but what else can he do? 

So he patiently waits for the inevitable. 

Seconds turn to minutes, minutes turn to hours. Hours turn to days, days turn to weeks. Before he even knew it—two thousand years had passed. And it is here that even his patience has begun to wear thin. 

And as if the Astrals has read his mind, the Glacian messenger returns once more to inform the birth of the Chosen King. 

Ardyn had smiled his most dangerous smile then. Accompanied by no more than apparent taunt as poisonous as a serpent’s venom, until the messenger herself had taken her leave in haste. 

And that’s when he finally let his smile dropped. 

Festering hatred and relentless monster he might be, but he was a family man once, and as such, the birth of an innocent child prophesied to sacrifice his life was and is not an event that should’ve been celebrated. 

But again. He is powerless to stop what has had been destined, written by the hands of Bahamut himself. So he waited once again. 

Time flies much faster in tens rather than thousands. Especially for someone as ancient as he. Ardyn went out of his way to make his kin, his destroyer, his salvation to hate him. 

Even going as far as instigating the murder of the Chosen’s father, subsequently shattering the new kingdom of Lucis (nothing of his was Ardyn thought) as the Chosen travels far and wide to wed the Oracle. 

Leading the Kings of Kings toward the Crystal has never been easier, unraveling his true identity was even more so. Afterwards it was only a matter of time to play the waiting game. 

Ten years worth of waiting until his inevitable demise. 

And when the Battle of the Kings commence, Ardyn was prepared, to be slain and to finally receive his eternal peace—that the Astrals themselves promised him; that he craves with his entire being; that he deserves after thousands of years of never-ending wait. 

________________________________________

“I will await you… in the beyond.” 

Ardyn expected the Chosen to give a well-earned rebuke, but much to his addle mind, and gradually deteriorating physical body, there was none to give. 

Curious enough to see the face of his kin as the final thing he’d view. Ardyn managed enough energy to open his eyes to gaze upon a shocking scene. A young woman with short dark hair stood before the Chosen. 

With the closeness of them both, one might think that they’re lovers. But upon a closer inspection. That very statement is unlikely. 

Not with the way the Chosen scrunches his face up in barely concealed pain, mouths open in a silent scream. It didn’t take long for the Chosen himself to fall on the ground at Ardyn’s side. 

Surprise is not enough of a word for the fallen ancient king. Startle beyond belief even more so. Then the young woman attention turns to him instead. 

A mocking smile that surpasses even him graces her lips. Body facing fully at both the fallen did Ardyn finally recognises the young woman’s identity, the one that is a part of the remaining Amicitia family.

Iris Amicitia. Younger sister to one Gladiolus Amicitia. The Chosen’s sworn Shield, and protector of the two other retinues. Ignis Scientia. Prompto Argentum. 

Ardyn wishes to move his body but he cannot. He’s teetering at Death’s door; physical form deteriorating; and he silently demands explanation to be made; demands for the Chosen to be cured for whatever ailment the young woman bestowed upon him; eyes conveying more, despite how weak he felt at the moment.

Then she spoke. 

“So this is the infamous, ostracized Healer of the past?” Her soft voice carries out. But the tone was devoid of any emotion, aside from a hint of curiosity. But that wasn’t what surprise Ardyn the most. 

This girl. This young woman. How does she knows that piece of information? Ardyn was sure that none of the three Chosen retinues told her about him, not in detail at the very least, so how? 

Iris plays with a dagger. Covered in red blood. Belonging to the Chosen whom also appear to be teetering on Death’s door. And a purple sheen that Ardyn knows to be poison. 

And not the mild kind if the way his salvation weakening struggle is anything to go by. Iris’s dark eyes gleam. Tracing over the dying figure near her feet, face planted on the ground and unable to move much further. 

A sickening grin forming on her lips at the sight, and she couldn’t help but to crouch down. “Your descendant has done well.” 

Her hand reaches out to touch the Chosen’s dark hair. Carding through the strand as a mother would towards her son. Head tilts to the side in a picture of innocence. But Ardyn knew better. 

Iris stops, as if she can sense the weak glare that Ardyn fixates on her person, bringing another ‘bout of a satisfied smile on her face. 

“There must’ve been a thousand and one questions in that head of yours, Healer, or can it be, are you concern about this pathetic descendant of yours?” 

If Ardyn can retain some sort of movement right now, or perhaps a smidgen of his magic, he’d bring Death upon this wretched girl. 

And as if reading his mind, the girl actually throws her head back and laugh, a disgustingly mocking laugh. It took forever for her to calm down enough to wipe an invisible tear from her eyes, before turning her attention back to Ardyn. 

“I’d let you in a secret,” she mock whispers, eyes gleaming with dark intention to hurt, “you’ve done well too. Just like Ifrit has planned.” 

If possible, Ardyn’s eyes couldn’t be open wider in shock. Ifrit? The Infernian? What does she mean by--? His train of thoughts is cut off by the sound of the girl giggling. 

The dagger in her hand dangling precariously atop the Chosen’s head. Its tip is sharp enough to—and the girl let the dagger go as the blade sink right through the Chosen’s head with ease. 

And just like that, the Chosen cease to move entirely. Body frozen in a motion of struggling against any, and all, things inevitable. 

She didn’t even blink as her feet made contact with the growing pool of blood, smile in tact as if it is just a part of an everyday routine to see such a thing. 

Ardyn himself couldn’t help but stare. Seeing the only chance of his salvation, his freedom, cease to exist right before his eyes. Festering hate bubbles and boils inside of him. 

And upon the last remnants of his strength and energy, he called upon the Scourge that resides within him, and… he couldn’t even see when she began to move. 

Just that her hands. One imbedded deep where his heart is, whereas the other possesses an unusual amount of force to held him in place, and Ardyn could do no more but imitate Noctis last hour of living. 

Eyes scrunching up in pain, unlike anything that he’d ever experience. Mouth opens to scream, only to choke and gurgle on his own blood. 

The smile never left the girl’s face. “Apologies, dearest Healer, but we require the Scourge to enact the final stage of our plan, so we’ll be taking them back with us now.” 

With one tug, dark tendrils gather in a ball at the girl’s hand, and Ardyn can do nothing more but fall onto the ground in a heap. Blood began to pool underneath him, and mix with that of his descendant’s own. 

In the crevices of his mind, Ardyn knew something was amiss, as this is not how it should end. 

He was supposed to put an end to the Caelum line, but the innocent people throughout Eos that was able to survive the eternal night, would at the very least, given the chance to live as light is returned to the world. 

A happy ending, unravel through the sacrifice of the Kings of Kings. But the appearance of this girl. Her vague relation to the Infernian, made for something ominous, something that’d rain down hell upon Eos, and the aftermath would even affect the Astrals as a whole. 

Closing his eyes as his final breath left him, as Death already began to take him away to the land of the dearly departed, he couldn’t help but hear a grouped distance shout that he knew belongs to the Chosen’s retinues. 

And faintly he wonders, what would become of them at the face of the girl that is not as what she appears to be. 

________________________________________

“Iris, what have you done?!” Amber eyes fixated in horror at the sight of his sister and the monstrosity that she holds in her hands. 

She did no more but smile at the three that stood before her. Chanting something akin to that of another prophesy, made by a jealous God, that wishes no more than unbriddled chaos to reign over the realm, starting with the destruction of the kingdom of light. 

“The king lay dead, slain by enemy hands, and the kingdom he protected, was in shatters.”

**Author's Note:**

> i made this in just one sitting. unbetaed. no proofread. but considering you've already read it. meh. i do hope you enjoyed it either way though. been almost a few years since i last write, type, or made a fic. so i'd like to think of this as a sort of accomplishment on my part.


End file.
